If We Were Perfect - Ana Huang Page 0,17

disbelief, the devastation, the heartbreak. He wouldn’t put anything past Edison, but Olivia knew he despised the man. Their breakup had been messy, but he’d thought she respected him enough not to pull such a low move—even if neither she nor Edison knew he knew. Sammy had stumbled away before they saw him and never confronted them about it. Technically, Edison and Olivia had both been single, so they hadn’t cheated on anyone, but it was the fucking principle of the matter.

Now, part of Sammy regretted offering Olivia a place to stay. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. The words just fell out of his mouth yesterday when she mentioned booking a hotel. Not only that, but she’d declined and he’d insisted, like an idiot. He’d said her stuff was already in his car and reminded her it would be cheaper than paying hotel rates for God knew how long. She’d relented on the condition they sign a lease and she pay rent like any normal tenant.

By nighttime, Sammy had whipped up a week-to-week lease, they’d signed on the dotted line, and Olivia’s belongings had been transported into her new room.

Out of all the bad ideas Sammy had had since he ran into her Friday night, taking Olivia in as his roommate was possibly the worst idea of them all.

Or was it?

The nice part of him said he should help her find a new place as soon as possible. The not-so-nice part insisted he kick her out next week. The downright devious part encouraged him to make the most of the situation—by making her regret the day she walked out on him.

Olivia living in his house and at his mercy meant plenty of opportunity for mind games.

Sammy wasn’t a mind games person. They were cruel and a waste of time and energy. But nothing about his feelings toward Olivia had ever been “normal,” and like he said, he wasn’t as nice as people thought he was.

The devious part won.

Chapter Five

Olivia debated the pros and cons of stabbing someone in the eye with a pen versus bludgeoning them over the head with a stapler. She wasn’t a violent person by nature, but she could learn and adapt. A few Google searches and YouTube tutorials, maybe a couple of grisly movies. She’d be on her way to Violentville in no time.

Her co-workers deserved it.

They spilled into the office in a loud, chattering, post-lunch high, sleeves rolled up and faces gleaming with sweat from tromping through downtown San Francisco in the middle of a summer afternoon in suits. It was warmer than usual today, and the scent of their musk invaded Olivia’s nostrils.

She wrinkled her nose.

“Olivia!” Logan slapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, causing her fingers to slip on the keyboard. She gritted her teeth and deleted the resulting nonsensical string of letters and symbols on-screen. “Working hard, I see.”

“Someone has to,” she said with a mix of tart and sweetness that made it difficult for the receiver to discern whether she was joking. She wasn’t.

Next to her, Cassidy continued typing like she was the only person in the room.

Besides the office assistant, Olivia and Cassidy were the only women in Pine Hill’s San Francisco office. Cassidy was a senior analyst like Olivia, but she carried a chip the size of Alaska on her shoulder. Olivia had tried getting lunch with her the other day and received a bland, silent glare in response.

So yeah, zero help or female bonding there.

Logan laughed. “You’re funny. Pretty girls usually aren’t funny.”

Pen stabbing. Definitely.

If only because the pen was closer and it would take less time to dispatch the blond tool hovering over her shoulder.

While the rest of the office settled into their seats—a few of them casting amused glances in Olivia and Logan’s direction as they did so—Logan perched on Olivia’s desk and obscured her view of the monitor.

She exhaled a long breath and tightened her grip on her Bic. “Can I help you with something?”

Olivia had played the Wall Street game for close to a decade. She couldn’t blow up—especially not here, where she had no allies. Her new manager in the New York office had been a sexist pig, but at least she’d had colleagues who had her back. Here, she was the new girl. She was only in California for the summer, and none of her co-workers seemed keen on getting to know her beyond some of the men’s thinly veiled come-ons.

She’d worked too hard and too long to throw